Mid-morning on Thursday I trotted out for a bit of yardwork before flying off on a trip. I was saddened to see the body of a little hummer, on its back on our front patio. But when I approached, I began to wonder if it was indeed dead. When I gently, ever so carefully picked it up, I realized it was alive -- warm, its eyes slowly opening just a bit, and its little heart beating, beating.

I know only enough about birds to realize the scope of my vast ignorance -- but I've heard people talk about hummingbirds "torpidating" in our cool Oregon mornings: sort of lowering their metabolism until things warm up. Maybe that's what was happening, maybe it had a minor injury -- though it was nowhere near a window -- or maybe it was a very sick bird. Who knows?

What I do know is that I held it in my hands for maybe five minutes, slowly righting it, trying to warm it with my breath and hands, marveling in this exquisitely close view of its feathers, feeling the tiny scrabble of its feet and a slow stretch of wing against my palm.

At some point, LeRoy saw me cooing over this treasure, grabbed his camera and came out. We were both so excited that all the camera settings didn't get done "just so," but he managed to get a few shots.

LeRoy Goertz

Finally, I took it back over to the feeder, hoping a little sugar water would revive it. Eventually, those little claws took hold of the perch and it stayed there for quite a while before -- YES! -- flying away.